the Unwilling Candidate
by Deadpool
Summary: The Year is 1968. The Vietnam war has begun. The Weapon X program is in danger. However, they've just recieved their newest subject. A Deadpool Fanfiction


The Unwilling Candidate  
By: Chris Small  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Deadpool or any other Marvel character. they belong to Marvel comics and Marvel comics doesn't have the heart or the time to sue pathetic humans who don't posess a social life [At least, I hope!]  
  
  
  
The Northern part of Canada is home to a number of things. Sub-zero temperatures. Untouched pieces of sedimentary rock that would make any geologist think his birthday had come early. Fierce, honourable, and deadly wolves. And one of the most secure and contraversial branches of the Canadian Government known to date. Located in the wall of an eroded cliff is a card key slot impossible to spot from a distance by the naked eye. Only 20 people in the world have a card to grant them access to what is hidden inside the hollow, and incredibly large, shell of the cliff. One of them, the most important member of them all, sits behind a beautiful 19th Century marble desk, swamped with paperwork and plagued with promises of death by his superiors, in a room that is scarcely decorated and entirely too large for one man. It is this man who is the current director of the project that is so popularly reffered to by 2 bit hackers who only have the smallest idea of what happens inside these walls as Weapon X.  
  
A knock on the wooden door stirred the director from his troubled thoughts. He glanced at the small digital clock on his desk and realized with dismay that it was time for Dr. Stroud's weekly report.  
  
"Come in," he director's hoarse voice spoke. The door slid open and in walked doctor James Stroud, head of research and development. He approached the desk in three long strides, his white lab coat trailing behind him, and dropped an entirely too large stack of papers onto the desk, producing an echoing thud in the room.  
  
The driector let out an exhausted sigh.   
  
"Stroud, I haven't finished reading last week's report because halfway through, I realized that it wasn't going to be good news. Just briefly summarize your findings this week and let me get on with it."  
  
Stroud's hands flexed and un-flexed. One of his deepest and most desired fantasies had nothing to do with sexual pleasure or riches. Stroud desperately seeked to wrap his hands around the directors throat and strangle the life out of him. Stroud had joined the project in 1965 and since, the present year of 1968, the director had not been shown the least bit of respect.  
  
"Yes sir," Stroud hissed through gritted teeth. "We had 4 candidates join the project since monday, mostly for the promised money, others hoping the procedure would cure them of life-threatening diseases. Unfortunately, the project didn't go so well, yet again.  
  
"Elaborate,"  
  
"Well, the first candidate began clawing his eyes out halfway through the procedure. The second candidate suffered from severe radiation poisoning and was announced dead two hours ago. the third candidate vomited out his bodily organs, something we thought was not scientificly possible until today. And the last candidate now has a second head growing out of his neck."  
  
The director slammed his fists on the desk, startling Dr. Stroud.  
  
"Jesus fucking Christ!" he shouted. "Why is it so fucking hard to do? we've gone through about 230 candidates. Half of those are dead, the other half are in the holding cells in the basement, unrecognizable as human. I've recieved about twenty calls this year alone from the heads of the Government, threatining to send out their most trained assassins if I don't deliver results soon. Why is it so hard to duplicate Project X?"  
  
Stroud tried to stir himself out of the shock from hearing the director speak so unproffesional. He was no longer angry at the directors behavor. He was fearful that he had become mentally unstable. He attempted to answer the furious director as best he could.   
  
"Sir, we have to take into account that Project X was a very unique candidate. He posessed the ability to heal at a superhuman rate and could therefore survive the operation we preformed on him. It's quite a difficult task to artificially duplicate that healing abilty on an average human while Project X was born with it. And, after all, we have come close to creating a second.  
  
The director had calmed down and was sitting behind his desk again.  
  
"If you are reffering to the candidate known as 'Sabretooth' then you are mistaken. It is my opinion that that thing is more animal than human, and is quite insane. Stroud, we need results. As you are aware, there's a war going on."  
  
'Of course I know there's a war going on you fucking superior prick!' Stroud's burning hate for the man was back in place.  
  
"Yes sir, I'm aware."  
  
"Good. I'm alerting the General of the Screaming Eagles squadron of the American army that we are in need of a strong and psychologicaly fit cnadidate from their ranks. With any luck, he will arive in a few days. Do not screw up this candidate as well Doctor. You are excused."  
  
"Thank you sir, Stroud forced a semi-smile and proceeded to the door.  
  
"Oh, and Stroud."  
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
I'd appreciate it if no one knew of my little episode."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
  
_____________________________________________  
  
"Come get some you mother fuckers!"  
  
Private Wade Wilson of the 101'st Aribourne Screaming Eagles force emptied a round of M-16 caliber bullets into the opposing forces of Charlie and proceeded to lock and load a fresh magazine.   
  
"Wilson, Jesus Christ, take it easy! you're not even aiming!"  
  
Wade ignored the angered voice of his sergeant and proceeded to open fire lying on the muddy ground behind a small hill. He didn't join the army to take orders. He didn't join the army to help his fellow man or to honour his country. Wade Wilson had joined the army to die.  
  
Another magazine used up, Wade emptied the chamber and loaded a fresh magazine. He pulled the trigger and nothing happened. Another attempt to squeeze the grooved piece of metal delivered nothing.  
  
"Fucking gun jam," Wade wore to no one in particular. It was pointless. The standard semi-automatic rifle for ground troopers would not deliver. Aggravated, he threw the gun aside and took out the 10-inch combat knife from its leather holster attatched to his belt. With any luck, he'd be able to slip past his sargeant, gut a few members of Charlie, and be shot and killed in the process. Better a quick and relatively painless death than what the cancer that ate away at his heart had in store for him.  
  
"Die, bitch!"  
  
Wade jumped over the small hill and began running towards the Vietnameese fighters.  
  
"Wilson, are you crazy? You get back here!"  
  
No amount of shouting from Wade's general would cause him to turn around. Diagnosed with cancer at the age of 24 and dying a slow and agonizing death, the only time he felt truly alive was on the battlefield. And no one would take that away from him.   
  
"If I die, I'll take all of you with me," Wade muttered under his breath.  
  
He ran towards an unsuspecting Vietnamese trooper and proceeded to slice the asian man with everything he had in him. He smiled a terribly cold and merciless smile and ran towards the next closest soldier. However, the element of surprise had been taken away from him and Wade was one man against an entire squadron of enemy fighters. Before he even saw it, a bullet came searing towards his back and lodged itself into his shoulder. He let out a small cry of surprise and then smiled.  
  
"It's over. Death, I am yours," he muttered before collapsing onto the the bloodstained battlefield.  
  
  
To Be Continued...  
  
  
well, that's the first chapter. It takes a while for me to find the right motivation, so be patient for the next chapter. Please R/R. 


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